


The One Where Sherlock is a Florist

by liveindenver



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, It's mainly just super sweet and cute, John is immediately into Sherlock, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sherlock is florist, because i just had to, so that doesn't divert from canon, those two can't keep their hands off each other, until the epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 01:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5848612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liveindenver/pseuds/liveindenver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I work as a florist and every day you walk in, buy one flower and give it to me” AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Sherlock is a Florist

“Definitely go with the tulip. It’s a classic flower, and besides she knows about you leaving her parents early to go play rugby. She will love it. The white, definitely.”

Third person Sherlock Holmes has had to help this morning. He’s great at his job; able to deduce what kind of flower is needed for certain situations, favorite colors and such. It’s just that, truly, he hates this job. If you asked him, he would say the place is full of idiots. Actually, he would probably tell you that without being prompted. 

“Molly, honestly, can you believe how many idiots are coming in today?,” Sherlock asked his coworker.

“Sherlock, it’s sweet. Don’t be so rude,” scolded Molly as the front bell rang to signal a new costumer coming in.

Taking one look at the middle aged man, with ink on his shirtsleeve and crusted shaving cream on his cheek from two days ago, Sherlock turned his back, walked to the back of the store and yelled out, “Don’t bother buying the roses to leave your wife, she’s already seeing your daughter’s history teacher.”

Molly rolled her eyes, and with an apologetic smile walked forward to help their customer.

 

____________

 

Three months. Three months is quite an accomplishment for John as of late. Things with Mary have been going amazingly well. They’ve been going great. Well, things have been good. These are all things that John Watson has running through his mind as he walks down the street, on his way to the morning shift at the surgery. Good enough, at least, that he considers buying her unprompted flowers, as he realizes that he’s walking right past an adorable flower shop. It’s not an anniversary, birthday, or other holiday, just a nice gesture that John has never really done for any of his previous relationships before. So, yea, it seems like things are going well. 

John opens the door to the alarmingly sweet smell of flowers, which is to be expected. A bell chimes above his head, as he turns to the left to start browsing the selection of flowers. There are stunning flowers surrounding him, but what catches his eye instantly is a set of cheekbones under a dark head of curly hair. Feeling an odd swooping sensation in his stomach, that causes him to become slightly breathless, John quickly walks directly back out the door he came in, pulling out his mobile.

“Hey, Mary. I realize that perhaps this isn’t the best way for me to do this, but I feel like it’s more respectful for me to just be honest with you now. I don’t see this relationship going much further. I hate to do this, really, do. I hope that we can stay friends, I hope you understand.”

In all honesty, this is probably the worst way John has ever broken up with anyone.

____________

 

Well, that’s one way to add an interesting facet to his day. From the three seconds that the doctor, very attractive doctor, invalided home from Iraq- no wait, Afghanistan, walked in the door, Sherlock couldn’t get much information from him. It was rather difficult considering he took one look at Sherlock, then promptly walked back out. If Sherlock didn’t know any better, he would have been offended by this. 

The bell ringing caught his attention, and Sherlock snapped his head up, staring right at the doctor walking back into the shop, and straight up to Sherlock. 

“You know, it’s not customary for a doctor to give his own patient flowers,” Sherlock opened, with a smirk. Perhaps he was using his skills of deduction to impress the doctor. 

“A doctor? Now why would you say that?,” came the reply.

“Easy. I know you’re an army doctor, and you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan. I can just— read people.” Sherlock said, face scrunching a little as he realizes he probably shouldn’t have said so much. This is usually the point where people realize he’s a bit off.

“Wow, that’s truly amazing—“ he trails off.

Sherlock, catching on, volunteers his name, “I’m Sherlock. Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Well, I’m just looking for a recommendation. What is your favorite flower available here?”

“Oh, it would have to be the Ophrys linearis. It looks as though there is a bee sitting in it. They’re quite a lovely flower.”

“Ta, I appreciate the help, Sherlock. I think I’m just going to look around for a few more minutes, don’t let me keep you.”

 

____________

 

John walks toward the back of the store, making sure to keep out of Sherlock’s sight. He sees another employee, busy with a till.

“Excuse me,” John says, surprising the other employee, causing her to jump slightly. 

“Hi, yes, is there something I can help you with?,” Molly asked.

“Yes,” John clears his throat, “I was wondering if you had any Ophrys linearis here.”

“Oh, the Woodcock Orchid! Yes, we do! Right back here,” Molly leads him a little farther back, thankfully away from Sherlock. 

“Yes, could I get a single flower, and well,” John stammers, trying to find the best way to put this, “I would like it to go to Sherlock, but not here, is there a way you can send it to his house later on?”

Molly answers yes, and John sneaks his way back to the front of the shop, and walks out without a second look to Sherlock. 

 

____________

 

Sherlock’s been home for about forty minutes when the doorbell rings. Checking the time on his mobile, he wonders who it could be. There is no chance the take away made it here that fast. He walks down the stairs, mindful that Mrs. Hudson is probably already asleep. When he opens the door, Molly is standing there with a single flower in her hand, and a smile on her face.   
Skeptically taking the flower from her, Sherlock says, “Now, what’s this all about?”  
“See you in the morning, Sherlock,” Molly says sweetly, turning back around. 

“Sherlock makes his way back up the stairs, and realizes that there a card attached. 

Thank you for your help today, Sherlock. I certainly hope to see you again in the future. Dr. John Watson.

A smile that Sherlock would never admit to broke out on his face, and he pulled the card in close to his chest, content for the first time in a long time. 

 

______________

 

John wakes up early the next morning, his shift starts a little later on this morning, but he’s full of energy, and he knows why. He went to sleep content, pleased with himself for the stunt he pulled with Sherlock. Dreams of dark curls invaded his dreams and made them all the more pleasant. He’s awake early, and considers his options. He could stay here, at home, and catch up on a few medical journals, then maybe stop by Speedy’s for a quick breakfast. Or, another options jumps to the forefront of his mind. He quickly gets out of bed, takes a perfunctory shower, puts on a little more cologne than his normal days at the clinic call for, and runs over to Speedy’s, picking up two coffees, and two blueberry muffins. He makes his way across town, on a slightly different route than he normally takes, and turns onto Baker Street. The flower shop he stopped at yesterday comes into view, and before he can lose his nerve, he walks toward it, breakfast in hand.

 

_______________

 

Wednesdays are typically Sherlock’s least favorite day of the week. This stems from the fact that he always closes on Tuesday nights, and opens on Wednesday morning. However, even his monstrous schedule couldn’t damper his mood today, and perhaps it’s because the entire morning, he carried a vase with Orchid with him room to room as he got ready. No one had to know that a single flower from an attract army doctor had reduced him to such embarrassing behavior. So here he sat, in the back, and began making bouquets for the day. Customers didn’t usually start showing up for another hour or so, which is why it alarmed him when he heard the front door chime. Wiping his hands on his apron, he made his way to the storefront.   
“Can I help you?,” he called out as he walked through the curtain, heading whipping around, looking for his early morning customer. He was met with the back of a head, hair the color of ash, and he immediately stopped, mouth falling slightly open.   
“Hi, Sherlock, I was sort of hoping you’d be here. Breakfast?” John asked, holding forward the two coffees and bag of baked goods. “I just had a bit of free time this morning.”  
Returning his smile, Sherlock held out a hand to grab the bag, and made his way to the back. “Sure, there’s a table back here. There’s a bell that will ring if someone walks in,” Sherlock answered John’s questioning gaze directed toward the door.  
“Sure, lead the way.” John replied, taking immense pleasure in the view ahead of him.

 

____________

 

“Baker Street Bouquet,” says the tiny, female voice, through his cell phones earpiece.  
“Hi, yes, hello, I would like to have a flower delivered.”  
“Sure thing, where is it going to?”  
“Is Sherlock still there at the moment,” John asked, trying not to sound too nervous.  
“He is on his lunch break right now, but he should be back any minute now. Would you like me to pass a message along to him?” she asked.  
“Well, uh, no” he stuttered out, “I would actually like the flower to be given to him.”  
“Ahhh,” came a squeal into his ear, “you’re the doctor from yesterday, aren’t you?”  
“Yes, Dr. John Watson, if you could just give him the same flower as yesterday, and let him know it’s from me. Please tell him I said ‘Thank you for joining me for breakfast this morning. Hope to see you again soon.’” John replied, a smile gracing his face.

 

______________

 

Sherlock came back from his lunch break, and walked straight into the store, Molly a smiling, happy mess in front of him.   
“What is it?” he asked, not particularly caring about her answer.  
“I have something for you,” she giggled out, turning around and presenting him with another Woodcock Orchid. He had to turn his head, to keep Molly from seeing the smile that took over his face.   
“He’s said ‘thank you for joining me for breakfast. And he wants to see you again, Sherlock!” she yelled out, alarming a couple a few feet away.  
“Molly, control yourself,” he admonished, snatching the flower from her hands and bringing it to the back, where his things were kept, including his flower from yesterday.

 

____________

 

Today was the day, John assured himself. He had walked past Baker Street three times yesterday, all unnecessarily, and Sherlock wasn’t in the shop any of those times. Assuming he simply had the day off, John steeled himself, and dressed in a lovely jumper he had received last Christmas, and made his way over to Baker Street again. He walked in the store and immediately saw Sherlock to his left, helping out another customer. He made his way to the back left corner of the store, where he knew Sherlock’s favorite flowers were kept. He grabbed a single stem and made his way to the front, staying out of the way, until Sherlock had finished with his customer.   
As soon as Sherlock was done, John walked up behind him, a brought his left hand, the one holding the flower, in front of Sherlock.   
“Hello, Sherlock. I was wondering if you would like to get dinner with me this evening?” John whispered into Sherlock’s left ear.  
Swiftly turning around, Sherlock looked into John’s eyes and replied, “Obviously,” with a smirk.

 

 

 

EPILOUGE

 

“Sherlock, wake up, you’ll be late,” John groaned, looking at the clock on the opposite wall, before rolling over, and nuzzling his head into Sherlock’s neck.  
“No, not getting up,” Sherlock said, wriggling closer to John, and wrapping his legs around John’s waist.   
“Sherlock, you can’t be late again. Molly fussed at me yesterday for it.” John said, contradictory to the immense amount of petting that was now happening to Sherlock’s arse.  
“I lied, John, I don’t have to be in until noon today,” Sherlock said with a groan as John continued kneading his arse.  
“Perfect,” John growled out, as he rolled Sherlock onto his back, and braced himself on his elbows, above Sherlock, “more time for this,” said John as he kissed his way down Sherlock’s lithe body.

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock’s favorite flower is the Ophrys linearis, better known as the Woodcock Orchid. Because, let’s be honest, this flower was made for Sherlock Holmes. Not only is it called the WOODCOCK, but it looks like there is a bee sitting inside of it. So, yea. You can see my reasoning, right?


End file.
